Another Time
by blacksluggard
Summary: Holden is married and is a father to a little girl. They visit New York to see Phoebe and Holden remembers the events that took place 20 years ago. I apologize in advance if I was unable to justice to Holden's character.


ANOTHER TIME

"Honk honk!" blared out and I pulled back Jerusha just in time as a car swerved past us dangerously close. I swear. Boy, drivers in New York are hella crazy sons of bitches. I looked down to see Jerusha staring after the car with her eyebrows raised high up in surprise. I shook my head.

"Yeah that's one crazy driver. Probably drunk as sin too. You know it when you see one."

We stood there pretty quiet until it was safe to cross the street. We reached the other side and I forgot all about slowing down for my daughter until she had to break into a trot to keep up with me.

"Daddy you're doing it again!" she complained. Her legs were too little to keep up with my strides. It killed me.

"Oh- I'm sorry sweetheart."

We stopped and looked around. There it was. Goddamn Central Park South. I could see the goddamn lake from where I stood. I stared at it, still frozen there like it had been since the last time I had been here. No ducks. I felt sore all of a sudden about the lack of ducks. And sort of sad. I really did. I felt this crumbly city would change and it has except for one detail that continued to bug me.

I didn't want to look queer standing in the middle of the goddamn sidewalk staring at that crumbly place but I couldn't help it. Jerusha looked at the lake and back at me, wondering what had transfixed her father. I knew she was wondering about it. She was a sharp kid. I looked into her questioning eyes and said, "Its fine kiddo, we are getting out here."

"Are you coming to meet aunt phoebe too daddy?"

"No I guess someone will come over to pick you up. I can't come today I'm awfully busy this time honey. I'm so sorry "

Jerusha looked down and squinted at the cars. "I asked aunt phoebe about Charles the last time."

I stopped in my tracks and said. "You did what?"

"I'm sorry daddy I...I don't know what came over me. We were driving past those nice houses and they were looking so pretty and everything was so awfully nice and I just blurted out and asked her."

"Jerusha" I sighed. "you can't ask aunt phoebe about these things. We have told you this before."

"I know daddy but aunt phoebe did say she didn't mind so it's ok now isn't daddy? She wouldn't mind would she?" She looked up at me so earnestly that it killed me. She looked darn adorable when she knitted her brows whenever she worried, that kid.

"Well then, I suppose there isn't much to worry about."

I felt depressed at the mention of Charles. It was this guy, this goddamn bum who fancied himself an artist, whom phoebe ran away with just after she finished college. Nobody knew about them, not even me. Mother and father nearly had a goddamn breakdown when they heard the news. I didn't blame them, damn I was floored myself. As was D.B. I never had a clue and it depressed me even more to find out. I guess I didn't know enough about her as I thought I did. It made sad to think about it, you know, that you could be so close to a person yet you never see something this huge coming. Anyway I wish Phoebe had told me this much. About her and the art fellow I mean. I wouldn't have minded, honestly. As much as mom and dad had. I wouldn't have thrown a fit or be mean to her. So anyway, phoebe ran off with him and they were gone for 6 weeks when, to everyone's shock, she came back. Turns out that sonuvabitch didn't have a penny on him and left her. Boy, that made me so mad that I had this real crazy idea about speaking to this goddamn guy. Watching him nervously adjust his glasses as I'd calmly ask the phony bastard why he left Phoebe. He'd reply with some crumbly answer and then I'd pull out my gun and pump a dozen bullets in his damn body, watch him writhe and bleed and then smoke a cigarette over his corpse. That killed me. Then it made sick and cold to my bone. To imagine myself actually shooting someone. It sounded so damn phony of me to imagine myself in this way because I know i can never actually act that way. Besides phoebe would be proper mad at me for hurting him. She told me later a part of her will never stop loving him even though he did leave her in the end. Don't ask me why. I didn't have the goddamn heart to enquire the reason. Women are such goddamn irrational creatures I swear to god.

So that's why I didn't want jerusha to know about that damn affair. Not because phoebe was married now and I was protecting her but because I didn't want my kid to think low of phoebe. Father said it was a lapse in judgment that caused things to happen the way they did. That wasn't a terrific excuse and it made me tolerably mad then. It wasn't simply a goddamn _lapse in judgment._ Crazy stuff like that happens sometimes. Like when I got the axe from Pencey. And ran around New York all alone like a madman, for Christssake. Just thinking about it depressed the hell out of me. And I felt like grabbing Jerusha right then and there and running away. Get on the nearest goddamn train and travel until we run out of land to travel. Just me and my kid.

By this time we had walked right up to the park. We approached it and all of a sudden I started sweating like a madman. I got scared and I felt constricted, like my chest was being squeezed by a huge fat python. I used to horse around imagining stuff like this a million times before but I swear it felt so real this time. I started remembering all the crazy nuthouse stuff that once you reach adulthood you successfully push to the back of your mind. The stuff about Phoebe. Stuff from 20 years ago. Like talking to Sally Haynes about that crazy idea about running off like a big fat idiot. Me almost running off with phoebe. Me slapping her. Me in the same park in that goddamn ridiculous hunting hat. That frozen lake, empty and quiet. All those endless "Fuck you" s in the bathroom. My palms were getting sweaty and for some crazy reason it bothered me a lot. I hated greasy palms ever since Ackley once rubbed his on my goddamn face right after he burst one of his pimples with his nails. It also didn't help that he constantly sweats though his palms. I didn't even know why I was having all these crazy thoughts at that moment. I looked down at jerusha but she didn't seem to notice or didn't care anyway. I had to remind myself that kids are too little to be bothered by stuff like this.

Anyway I tried to shake these crazy thoughts off and persuaded Jerusha to enter the park. There was the carousel where old phoebe had a riot on 20 years ago. Boy, that killed me. I smiled to myself and imagined the scene, phoebe no bigger than Jerusha, clinging on the rails and shrieking her head off with joy. I said to myself one day I'll tell this story to my kid, as well as the rest of it. Every goddamn word of it. I swear to god.

She started pulling my arm because she wanted to ride the damn carousal like the other kids. I let her and watched her grin from ear to ear as I pick her up and place her on one of those flimsy plastic seats shaped like animals. They looked so damn phony that I was tolerably bothered about it but Jerusha never minded them. She was literally crooning with delight. That killed me I swear. To watch her laugh like there wasn't a goddamn worry in the world, like Phoebe once did 20 years ago. I must remember to tell Jane about today. About New York. About the carousel. Even about the goddamn frozen lake and the missing ducks. Boy, I can look into the city and see Phoebe and her husband driving in their shiny black limo looking out at all the goddamn expensive shops. Jerusha would be seated between them chattering happily and gaping at the city. I can let these thoughts fill up my mind, and I didn't feel so ornery about the goddamn ducks anymore.


End file.
